iht forest gcpuMtam.
'MflIF.I KVUKY Wi:f)Ni;fM)AY, BY
O". 33 XKTI-l INT JEC.
nrrron in robinsoh & bonner's building
r.LM STREET, TI0NE3TA, pa,
TEItMB, 11.80 A YEAR.
No Subscription received for a shorter
t --( 1 thrui tliroo month.
'i responlein-n solicited ti oin all pnrt
ltii- fun u try. No notice will bo taken of
anonymous coniiiumicalions.
Rates of Advertising.
On Hquara (1 Inch.j ii Insertion '.
One Square " one month - S
OnoSquare " throe month - see
One Square " nno ywt - 10 r
Two Squares, one year - - 1" ''9
Quarter Col. .to r
Half " " - 5 1
One " " - - - - nn vr
Iiegal notices at established rate.
Marriage and death notice, gratia.
All bills for vearlv advertisement .,;.
lected quarterly. Temporary advertise
ments must be paid for in advance.
Job work, Cnh on Delivery.
if
a CM
rl rl o
VOL. XIII. NO. 3. TTONESTA, PA., APRIL 7, 1880.
$1.50 Per Annum.
lie
Y
a
The Rattle or the Hones.
How many bones In the human face t
Fourteen, when they're all in plnce.
How mimy hone In the human head ?
Kiglit, my chilli, as I've olten said.
How mnny hones in tho human ear?
Three in each, and they help to hear.
How mnny hones in tho human spine ?
Twenty-six, like a climbing vine.
How mnny 1ones in tho human client T
Twenty-four rilm, and two of the rest.
ITow many bonos the Hhouldeis bind T
Two in encli ono before, one buhind.
How mnny bones in the human arm?
In each arm ono; two in each forearm.
How ntany bones in tho human wrinl ?
Kiglit in aoh, if none are lnisHed.
How mnny bones in the palm of the hand T
Five in rueh, with mnny nliand.
How mnny bones in the Angers ten ?
Twonty-cinht, find by joints they bond.
How mnny bones in the human hip f
Ono in meli like a diali they dip.
How many bones in the human thih T
Ono iu mush, end deep thoy lie. ' " ' V
How many bones ju the human knees?
One in each, the Vneepan, please.
How many (tones in the leg from tho knee T
Two iu each we can plainly see.
How many bones in the ankle strvng 1 .
Seven in caoh, but none are long.
How many bones in the ball of the foot T '
Five iu enoli, as the palms wero put.
How many bones in the toes half a score 7
Twenly-uibt, and there are no more.
And now, altogether, these many bono tlx,
And thoy count in the body, two hundred and
six.
And then wo have, in the human mouth
Of upper and under, thirty-two teeth.
And now and then have a bone I should think,
That tonus on a joint or to fill op a chink.
A sesamoid bine or a wormian we call,
A n 1 aow wo may ret lor we've told them a'b
JndiunrpolU Sen tint I.
An Unexpected Meeting.
It was a small, one-story frame struc
ture, presenting some of the character
istics of a cabin and cottage, built only
a little way in from the road, and ap
proached from it by a narrow wooden
bridge, unde which meandered, in
temperate seasons, a geptle stream, but
which, in the fervid vigo of the sum
mer and the rigor of the winter, was
dry tmd silent.
Away down in a meadow behind this
little sentry-box was a large farmhouse,
with a colony ol smaller buildings
springing up about it, and back of those
WHtu wood, rising precipitously! to the
brow of tv protecting hill.
In summer-time this homestead of
Farmer Oilman was a smiling, shady
place to look upon, as was, indeed, all
the country in which nestled the ham
lot of Fair bank, distant a couple of
miles away; but now that the iron fet
ters of winter were on everything, it
looked cold, cheerless and uninviting.
It had been Bnowing all day snow
whs everywhere. It was on the rich
Pasture lands, on the closely-shaven
meadows, on last year's tillage; it
crowned fences, and maintained a pre
. carious existence on the roofs of houses;
it rendered sightless gaps in broken
roads, and lent a treacherous expansion
to h'ghways; it in short, blotted pu
the ordinary landmarks, and was on
great, whitestaring eyesore on the face
of the landscape.
Night had come on. and with it in
creased activity on the part of the storm.
It was bilUrly cold, too, and there was
an edge on the air like a knife.
It was a night to enjoy a grateful
uieal and a comfortable fireside, and
this was what May Sefton was prepar
ing for her father's return in the little
cottage by the roadside.
The, ample stove was aglow with the
crackling wood-lire ; the bright lamp
light illumined the neat, decorous little
kitchen; the old easy-chair wore a look
of expectation as it stood by the table
that awaited the burden of the substan
tial supper, and the blue-eyed rose-bud
herself was blithely singing snatches of
a ditty, us if in defiance of the gloom
and storm without.
For a dozen years and upward May
Sefton had occupied this same abode
with her father, and had been his sole
companion and housekeeper.
About that time (Jeorge Sefton had
made his first appearance in Fairbnnk,
bringing with him little else than a fair,
sweet child of four or five years old,
and carrying; about him an air of sup
pressed ' suffering that silenced in
quiries, albeit that it somewhat excited
curiosity. But this -curiosity was sat
isfied and turned to sympathy when it
was learned that the stranger had re
cently buried his partner, and that the
golden-haired child he so tenderly cher
ished was motherless.
George Sefton had not furnished Fair
bank with this information in so many
words. From the day of his arrival
to the tune whereof we write, he had
never opened his hps on the subject of j
his antecedents. ;
Abraham (iilman, or old Abe, as he j
was more universally called, to distin- ;
guish him from a younger Abe, had
once asked (Jeorge, when they weie
working in the fields together, if ho was
not a widower like himself, whereat
Abe's new employee had bent his head,
and then maintained n silence so impres
sive that the fact was taken for granted,
and never after discussed.
As for May, if questioned on the sub
ject, she could only teHot a big town
and a large house, And a fine lady that
used sometimes to kiss her, and who,
one night, she was told by her father,
had died and was buried away lor ever
more.
"Six o'clock," cries May, stopping
her warbling to laugh up in the face of
the old clock that chimed the hour.
Six o'clock," she laughs, as she turns
tho fragrant rashers in the oven, and
casts a searching glance at the table to
see that it contains all her own homo
made dainties. "Father will be here
presently. 1 wonder if Abe will
Hush, you naughty thing," she adds,
under her breath, and pressing her
hands to her rosy mouth, as she hears a
crunching sound drawing nigh.
The sound draws nearer till it stops
outside, when there is a scraping and
stamping of feet, and then the door
opens, and a fragrant, warm smell, and
a bright gleam of light, and a smile of
delicious youth and innocence stream
out in the face of the night and salute
the intruders.
The first to enter is a man, tall, and
slightly bent, with a thin, aged face,
and a fair, long beard, plentifully leav
ened with gray hairs. He bends down,
with an air not quite in keeping with
his homely garb, and impresses a fer
vent kiss on the sweet, upturned face
that greets him. lie then steps aside
with a courteous movement and dis
closes the figure of a robust youth, with
a beardless face wreathed in smiles,
half-diflidcnt. half-assured, altogether
guileless.
" Come in, -Abe," says the little
hostess, as he beams at her from the
doorway.
Smiling, Abe insinuates himself past
her, without a word, merely rubbing
the top of his frost-smitten nose by way
of salutation.
In or about this hour, Abe Gilman
generally insinuated himself into the
presence of May, and beguiled his even
ings in the company of her and her
father. (Jeorge Sefton had some books
which greatly interested him, especially
when read to him by the owner or his
daughter, and ho occasionally borrowed
one, though frequently puzzled by some
of the words; for Abe was not. much of
a scholar, but ho had a taste for litera
ture, and for May's society, which was
a sort of education in itself.
" You haven't had supper, Abe," said
May, invitingly, to the visitor, with a
peep at hiiu that might have upset a
mote confident youth.
" I'm iust goin' back to it," said Abo.
.apologetically. " I only kem for a book
yer father promised to loan me.
" Better stay for supper now, Abo,"
said George Sefton, in his quiet but
kindly way.
"Don't require to be coaxed too much
before you conseht," said May, with
mock gravity, and a merry twinkle in
her blue eye, that rent Abe into a con
vulsive titter, and brought hint to the
table without further paney.
" Who went to Fairbank to-day P" in
quired May, w-hen she had set the meal
in full motion.
" Abe, my dear; ho brought you your
paper," answered her father. "I was
chopping wood all day; much warmer
work eh. Abe?"
. " Yes, sir," returned Abe, with an
emphasis on the second word that left
no mistake as to his thorough agreement
with his friend's opinion. "I never
thought I'd get home. There wasn't a
soul to be seen in the village, 'cept what
was keepin' the stove warm in the store
There was a lady that kem by the cars,
an' she wanted to. start straight away
for Mansfield, an' she offered ten dollars
to anv one that'd take her. an', by golly.
sir, she couldn't to save her life git one
that'd face it."
" She was a trump," laughed May,
" and she'd face it herself?"
" Yes, by golly, she would that," said
Abe; "but she had so many shawls
i
an' turs, an' wraps with uer, that
think she could have slep' in the snow
for a week without being froaen."
" It's a nasty road from hero to Mans-
" but that was a stiffpriee "
" She may get some onelthat'll take
her yet," said May.
" She may. and she mayn't." said Abe,
grinning comfortably at the fire. " If
Jack Price was around, I don't think he'd
let so much money go. I think he'd
skin himself an' that horse of his for the
whisky that ten dollars d buy
" I fear he'd run the risk of it, Abe,"
said George, smiling. " roor .lack is a
rare fellow for his whisky."
Hush!" cried May, "this is a sleigh
coming now; I'm sure I heard the bells
Perhaps it's she. Look and see. Abe."
"Ho couldn't see his finger outside, mv
dear," said her father, taking down his
pipe off the mantle and filling it, whilst
Abo rose to poep out.
The tinkling sound advanced rapidly.
but it was dark as pitch, and sleet and
snow were traveling furiously with the
wind.
Abe could see nothing from the door
step, so ho ran down to the wooden
b rid se that spanned the frozen stream
He could now discern the dark object
coming furiously toward him, but iie
noticed, with anxiety, that it was in
dining dangerously near the side of the
road on whicu was tjre nttie ravine.
Onward came the snorting bor.se at
the top of his speed, but closer and closer
to the brink of the highway.
Abe raised Ms hands and voice in
alarm to the driver, but his warning
was not heard, or heard too late, for the
next instant the here and sleigh had
tumbled into the bed of frozen water.
The hoarse cry of a man in pain and a
stifled moan reached the ears of the
horrimd Abe, as lie shouted eut,
"George! George!"
But George, who had heard the crash,
was an hand a moment aiter the acci
dent with a lantern, tnd, taking the
situation in at a glance, first released the
furiously struegling horse, and then
lifted up the heavy sleigh that had com
pletely turned over on the occupants.
. Jack Price for lie it was was so full
of whisky that, when he regained his
liberty, lie scarce felt the pain of his
broken arm and bruised and bloody
face.
George Sefton had ahead y raised tha
other traveler in his arms, and a
troubled lor k had gathered on his brow.
" Take that druken fellow back to the
village, Abe," he said, when Jack Price
and his vehicle were once more in run
ning order; "and make all the haste
you can back with the doctor. 1 tear
this is a serious case."
Is it the lady, father?" said May.
who had come forward and was hold
ing the lantern, as George clambered up
to the road with the unconscious bun
dle in his arms.
" I suppose so. May," he replied, fol
lowing her into tho cottage. "Who
ever it is, is, I dread, badly hurt."
May drew the lounge close to the hre,
and on it the insensible woman was
laid.
Abe did not exaggerate when he
stated that the lady was well protected
from the weather, She was wrapped
and muflled up till her face was no
longer visible, and May s first efforts
were directed to relieve her from some
of this now unnecessary covering.
(Jeorge Sefton was bending anxiously
over the two women, watching lor a
glimpse ot the stranger's face.
When it was revealed to him, ghastly
white, but still aggressively beautiful,
his breathing for a moment ceased, and
a scared expression lit up his mild, blue
eyes.
May, too, was startled at the sight or
tho death-like face; but when she
glanced u at her father, and beheld his
ashen countenance and trembling form,
she was filled with terror.
" What is it, father?" she exclaimed.
Do you think, hen, she's dead?"
His dazed look wandered from the
prostrate figure on the lounge, and
rested on the innocent being kneeling at
her side.
"No. I don't think she is." he replied,
at length, in a voice scarcely abOve a
whisper.
The scared expression in ins face had
stolen into his voice, and it was hushed
and frightened.
Tears welled up into May's eyes, and
dropped on the cold hands she was
chafing.
The lady, after a while, showod symp
toms of returning consciousness. Be
yond her pallor and insensibility, she
presented no outward sign 01 injury.
" l don't thinK she's much hurt,
father." said May. leaning tenderly over
her patient, the tears still glistening lik
pearls on her eyelashes; but noting,
with hope and pleasure, the increasing
evidences of animation. -
He made no response to May's re
mark, but continued to stare straight
down at the pallid, beautiful face of the
lady.
Suddenly a pair of eves, larger and
more liquid than May's, but of the same
azure hue, are opened out upon him,
and the conscious woman is scrutiniz
ing his weird, haggard countenance.
For a brief moment a crimson Hush
banishes the pallor, and the hands that
May holds are clutched convulsively.
Then the red blood deserts the face
again, and it becomes ten times more
livid, lhe oeautuui, ltquia eyes oroop
abashed before t he man's gaze, and trav
erse searchingly the room, till they rest
on May kneeling by her.
" l mnot deceived, then," she lecbiy
mutters. Is this "
Ilei voice broke the spell, or stupor
that had stized George Sefton at the
first glimpse of her, and, in a low and
decisive tone, he said :
"You mustn't speak just now,
madam, till the doctor arrives, and we
know what's the trouble. Prepare your
bed for this lady, May," he added, mo
tioning the yung girl to her room,
gravely.
May had scarcely disappeared, when
he was at the woman's side, whisper
ing excitedly in her ear :
" You mustn't let her known.nothing.
It's better for her it's better for you.
I don't want to reproacli you now. I
don't know what strange fatality
brought you to ray cabin to-night; but
whatever it was leave us leave her in
the peace and innocence that you have
founa nor. hince the hour that you de
serted her I've led fier to believe you
dead. I've striven to hide you and
your sin from your child with tho
charitable mantle of the grave, and for
that sole purpose I've since hidden my
self here. Don't seek to undeceive
her. Iet her still think of you with re-
gi-et. Let her memory 01 you continue
to be a fragrant one."
The erring woman listened with
closed eyes and blanched cheeks to the
man s passionate words.
"May I kiss her?" was all she fal
tercd.
"Yes. if"
May entered, and George Sefton moved
away, and flung himself into a chair in
a far corner ot the room.
Mav resumed her watch by the lady's
side, taking the cold, slender hands onee
more in hers. She noticed that the
lovely eyes, which were turned with in
finite tenderness on her, wero dimmed
with tears, and that the hands she
clasped pressed hers caressingly.
The monotonous tick, tick, of the old
clock was all t' at broke the 6ilence of
the room.
The lady closed her eyes, and May
was beginning to think that she was go.
ing to sleep, when a sweet voice whis
pered in her ear :
" Kiss me. darling."
The young girl crept -loser, aad wind
ing her arms round the woman's neck,
wrapped the poor soul in her chaste em
brace. Was it the instinct of love or pity?
When George Sefton awoke from his
painful reverie an hour later to admit
Abe Gilman and the doctor, he found
the two women asleep, the elder resting
on the bosom or tne younger. 1 he
girl was easily aroused, but the other
awoke no more.
The friends who came for the dead
woman knew not the unhappy husband
under his assumed name and altered ap
pearance.and May never learned that her
mother had passed out of thespheieof
sin and shame in her hi iiis.
Her father lived long enough to see
I107 the happy wife of Abe Gilman, and
t aen passed away, carrying bin ret
with him.
TIMELY TOPICS.
It is proposed to build in certain dis
tricts on the western frontier of Kan
sas churches made of sods. A few such
already exist. The walls ar of sods,
the roofs are covered with sods,
and the floors are of earth. A church
can be built, in size about S6xS6, for
an outlay in money of only 9 10, and
this has already been done in at least
one instance. A wall of sods, if prop
erly built, and protected, will last 100
years. Roofs of shingles and floors of
wood are greatly to be desired, but, of
course, they add very much to the cost
of a church.
Germany, with a population of 42,
000,000 has 60.000 schools and an at
tendance of 6,000,000 pupils; Great
Britain and Ireland, with a population
of 34,000,000 has 58,000 schools and
3,000,000 pupils ; Austria-Hungary, with
a population of 37,000,000, has 30,000
schools and 3,000,000 pupils; France,
with a population of 37,000,000, has 71,
000 schools and 4,700,000 pupils; Spain,
with a population of 17,000,000, has 20,
000 schools and 1,600,000 pupils; Italy,
with a population of 28,000,000, has 47,
000 schools and 1,000,000 pupils; and
Russia, with a population of 74,0( 0,000,
has 32,000 schools and 1,100,000 pupils.
Glucose manufacture is making an ex
citement iu the maize districts of the
West, the factory at Buffalo and its re
markable success being the prime stim
ulant. Half a dozen establishments
have been planted within a month in
Indiana, Illinois and Iowa. Cyms Mc
(Jormick and others have, it is said,
put $650,000 intft one at Chicago. It is
to have a capacity of 20,000 bushels a
day, which is the equivalent of 300 tons
of sugar. A bushel of corn, costing
about forty cents, produces thirty
pounds of grape sugar, or three gallons
of syrup. This sugar, which costs them
net two cents per pound, they can sell
at from three and one-half to four cents,
while the three gallons ot syrup can he
sold at from thirty-rive to forty cents a
gallon.
One of the Irish parish priests to
whom Mr. Redpath, the New York
Tribune correspondent, sent a letter of
inquiry concerning the distress caused
by amine, says: "It would be impos
sible for me to individualize, where hun
dreds and hundreds in my parish are in
this state. May God, in His mercy,
open wide to us the American heart.
In it, under uod, is our hope. A better
day, I trust, is coming; and when it
comes and when the merry word and
joyous laugh are again heard, believe
me, though we forget everything else
connected wit h the dread times of the
year 1880, we shall never, never forget
America, who, by being the true 'friend
in need.' proved herself to be the ' friend
indeed." Another priest writes: "My
house is actually besieged from early
dawn till late at night by hundreds of
ragged, hungry-looking persons, most
piteously craving and clamoring for re
lief, jno amount ot private charity. I
fear, will be sufficient to meet the
present appalling distress.
Professor Swing, the well-known
Chicago minister, thinks it must be ac
cepted as a fact that there is great suf
fering in Ireland to-day. and that the
money forwarded from this laud, and
from all lands, and from Lngland her
self, is the tribute due from the fortu
nate to the unfortunate in an era
which declares all men to be brethren.
If the grasshoppers in Nebraska made
outside help necessary, it the yellow
lever in the houth demanded an upris
ing in Northern charity, so the famine
in Ireland proclaims that another time
has come for help to pass over from the
strong to the weak. The utter failure
of crops for several seasons has made it
impossible for parents to bm new cloth
ing for the children, and hence the
awful scene of several little ones wrapped
in one ragged blanket, at once without
food and without covering. Before
theso repeated failures of crops there
were thousands in this afflicted coun
try who were just on the edge of star
vation. In good times these had not
enough food or clothing, and now that
the crops have laued tor three consecu
tive seasons, it ought not to require
much more than a rumor to convince
one that there must be great distress in
many parts of the Irish country.
He Remembered Exactly.
A lying witness will often tell a very
glib story, out he generally fails to
guard all his weak points. At a recent
trial in court the following took place in
attempting to prove an alibi:
Attorney S. You say that Ellis
plowed for you all day on the 20th of
November?
Witness reftrring to his note-book
Yes.
S.- What did he do on the 30th P
W. We chopped wottd.
S.-On the 31st?
W. That was Sunday, and we wen
squirrel hunting.
S What did he do on the 32d
W. He thrashed wheat on that day
S. AV hat did he do on the 33d?
W. It was raining, and he shaved
out some handles.
S What did he do on the 34th P
W. He chopped wood.
S. What did he do on the?
But before tho question could be tin
ished. the witnesses's wife seized him by
the collar and whisked him outside of
the witness-box, yelling in his affright
ed ear
" You old fool don't you know there
are only thirty days in the month of
November?"
When old Mr. Jligginsworth was
asked if he took a newspaper, he replied
that "since our member of Congress has
stopped sending me tho Conuressuj nn
ocorrZIdon t take any, but 1 guess
kin get along without it. It never
liives murh news anyhow. ,Sf. I'nul
Ji"pntih.
' Mother, Have We Any Meal This
DayP'i
Mr. Redpath. the New York Tribune
correspondent sent to Ireland to inquire
into the condition of the famine-Btriclcen
people, has received many letters from
parish priests detailing a deplorable
state of affairs. The following letter
from Rev. John J. O'Keanc, dated
Dramore West, is a tale of suffering that
ought to move a heart of stone :
The area of this parish is over 10,000
acres, the greater part 01 wincn is nog
and mountain, and the remaining por
tion, with the exception of a couple of
hundred acres of grazing land, consists
of poor marshy lowlands. The average
size of the holdings is between six and
lght acres, and the population, Includ
ing all denominations, is about 600
families, nearly 4.000 individuals. Over
400 families are dependent on the relief
committees, and 100 families in the
parish are almost entirely in want or
clothing, and the children in a state of
semi-nudity.
On Sunday morning last, as I was
about going to church, a poor young
woman, prematurely aged by poverty,
addressed me. Being in a hurry I said :
' I have no time to speak to you, Mrs.
Calpin; are you not on the relief list?"
jso, father," she answered, " and we
are starving." Her appearance caused
me to stop. SShe had no shoes, and her
wretched clothing made her a picture
of misery. I asked her why her hus
band had not come to speak to me. Her
reply was: "He has not had a coat
for the last two years, and this being
Sunday did not wish to trouble Thomas
Feeney for the loan of one, as he some
times lends one to him." "Have you
any other clothes beside what I see on
your" "Father, I am ashamed," was
the reply ; " I have not even astitch of
underclothing." " How many children
have you P" "Four, father." "What
are their ages?" "The eldest, a boy,
eight years 5 a girl, seven ; another tour,
and a little one on the breast." " Have
they any clothes?" "No, sir; you
might remember when you were passing
last September you called into the
house, and 1 had to put the children
aside for their nakedness." " Have you
any bedclothesP" "A couple of guano
bags." "How could you live lor toe
last week ?" " I'll tell you. sir. 1 went
to my brother. Martin McGee. of Fur-
relinfarrel, and ho gave me a couple of
porringers of Indian meal each day,
Irom which I made Indian gruel, or
which I gave the husband the biggest
portion, as lie was working in the
fields." "Had you anything for the
children?" "Oh, father," she ex
claimed, " the first question they put me
in the morning is, 'Mother, have we
any meal this day?' If I siiy I have,
they are happy; if not. thoy aro sad and
commence to cry." At these words she
showed great emotion, and I could not
remain unmoved. This is one of the
many cases I might adduce in proof of
the misery of my people.
'J he Chinese Theater.
In the north of China every town and
every large village boasts ot its perma
nent theater, while the inhabitants of
other villages, too small to be so form
nate, find little difficulty in extemporiz
ing theaters ot mat and bamboo on any
chance arrival of an itinerant troop of
actors. As long as tho visit of these
wandering players last, the people (
the district give themselves up to the en-
lovment ot the holidav. ii.ariy each
morning the roads Irom all the e-ountry
round mav bo seen crowded with peo
pie. the poorer ones on toot, wid, if in
the north of China, the wealthier classes
on mules or in carts, all tending to the
one point of attraction; the women gay
in blue, red or green silks, and tho men
in their best and brightest attire. It we
follow this pleasure-seeking crowd, we
enter a theater built iu the form of a
parallelogram, at ono end of which is a
platform, generally, though not always.
as wide as the building. The platform
is divided breadthwise by a wooden par
tition with two entrances, the trout part
forming the stage, and the rear portion
serving the purposes 01 green room,
property room and abode of the troupe
The body of the theater, answering to
our pit and stalls, is without seats or
partitions; while above and encircling
the whole are the boxes in which the
women and principal subscribers have
their places. If tho district should be
a very poor ono the probability is that
we hnd ourselves opposite a covered
stage or an open piece ot ground, in
front of which the carts of the visitors,
full of their occupants, are arranged in
a semi-circle, thus forming the walls of
a truly J. hespian theater. Within this
enclosure stands a densely packed, good
natured, eager crowd, whose power of
standing is only equaled by their poer
of unflagging enjoyment. No money is
taken at the doors, lhe troupe is sen
eially hired either by a private indi
vidual or by a public subscription for a
certain number of days, and free admis
sion is granted to every one. Ihe per
formances last from the early morniug
until late in the evening, with short m
tervals between each four or five pieces
lhe acting, generally speaking, is good
tor the Chinese aro naturally quick of
observation, and are thus able, in every
day life, to catch easily the tone of those
with whom they associate, and on the
stasre to assume the characters thev wish
to represent. The possession of these
faculties is the more important, as tho
actors get very little guidance from the
play book, which almost entirely con
tide their directions to " enter." " exit '
nH "MuMe." nr aft the Chinese literally
translated means, " ascen 1," "de.scend,,,
and "turn the back and say." Content-
porary Review.
A certain painter was bragging of his
wonderlul command 01 color to a irieno
ono day. His friend did not seem to
take it tiuite .11 in. " Why," exclaimed
the painter, "do you know that there
are but three painters in the world, sir
who understand color?" "Ami who
arc thev?" at last asked the friend
" Whv. sir. 1 am one. and and and
and I forget the name of theoiher t wo !
A Weird Fancy.
If the dead, lying under the grasses,
Unsean linger near the bvreft,
Having knowledge and sense ol what passes
In the hearts and homes they have left,
What tear-drops, than sea-waters Salter,
Must fall when they see all the strife
When they see bow we fail, how we falter,
How we mis in the duties of life.
If the great, who go ont with their iacn
Bedewed by a weeping world's tears,
Stand near and see how their places
Are filled, while the multitude cheers
If the parent, whose back is bent double
With delving for riches and gold,
Lends an er to the wrangle and trouble
About him, before he U cold;
If the wife, who left weeping and sorrow
Behind her, bends down Irom above,
And beholds the tears dried on the morrow,
And the eyes newly horning with love;
If the gracious and royal-souled mother,
From the sflenee and hush ol the tomb,
Can hear the harsh voice ot another,
Slow-blighting the frnit of ber womb;
1 the old hear their dearly-forgotten
Rejoicing that burdens are gone;
If the young know how soon they're for
gotten,
While the mirth and the revel go on
What sighing of sorrow and anguish
Mast sound through the chambers of space ,
What desolate spirits must languish
In that mystio and undeecribed place !
Then life were a tarce with its burden,
And death but a terrible jest !
But they cannot- The grave gives its guerdon
Of silence and beautiful rest.
ITEMS OF INTEREST.
M. de Lesseps never indulges iu alco-
holio beverages.
The number of families living in New
York city is 213,467.
A hoarse shoo never brings good luck
to a foraging hen. Wheeling Leader.
Peter Cooper has a fine collection of
Greek and Roman coins which he has
been gathering during the last nay-nine
years.
A slab of wood marks the grave of
Stonewall Jackson's mother, who was
buried on an eminence 700 feet above the
river at Hawk's Nest, Virginia. ,
The proverb, "Every bullet has its
billet," is said to have originated in a
superstition common among soldiers
htty years bacx tnat tneir name was
written on the bullet that stretched
them dead.
lie told her that be loved her
In touos so solt and mellow;
But she said she couldn't marry him,
For she'd asked another fellow.
( Phis is leap-year.)
Steubcnvillt Herald.
" Two sisters of Glasgow got mad st
a plumber and threw him out of the
fifth story window." But he got even
with the sisters. He charged them
double time from the minute he left the
window until he struck the sidewalk.
Norrirtown Herald.
In digging the Suez canal Egyptian
workmen were forced to make hods of
their backs, placing their hands behind
them and clasping the lelt wrist with
the right hand. Boys under twelve
years of age were made to do this It is
lardiy necessary to aaa mat inousanas
perished under such inhuman treat
ment.
A physician at Areata'. Cal., had for
a patient a girl for whom he entertained
a high regard, as she was the daughter
of an intimate friend. He could not
cure her. however, and she died with
out the exact nature of her disease be
ing discovered. Immediately on hear
ing of her death he accused himself of
lack of medical skill, and committed
suicide.
There hangs in the office of the Walla-
Walla (W.T.) Statesman the sign under
which the Nez Perces fought and sur
rendered to General Howard in the war
of 1877. It is nothing more than the
skin of a red fox, with the exception
that at the base of the neck there is a
scalp lock. When fighting at Bear Paw
mountain, this was nung up on a nign
pole, as a sign that they would use all
the cunning and strategy of that animal
while hghting.
Two gushing Boston girls were walk
ing one day in the suburbs of the Hub,
when they stumbled on a little old-fashioned
mile stone, forgotten in the march
of improvement. One of them stopped.
and parting the grass discovered 111c
half-effaced inscription, "I. m. from
Boston." upon which she exclaimed,
ecstatically : " Here is a grave, perhaps,
of some young girl who wished it writ
ten on her tombstone, 'I'm from Boston.'
How touching! so simple and so suffi
cient!"
An erring husband, who had ex
hausted all explanations for late hours'
and had no apology ready, recently
slipped into the house, about two
o'clock, very softly, denuded himself
cently, and began rocking the cradl
by the bedside, as if he had been
awakened out of a sound sleep
by infantile cries. He had rocked
away for ten minutes, when Mary Jane,
who had silently observed the whole
maneuver, said, " Come to bed, you
fool! the baby ain't there." Toronto
Graphic.
There are at present in Europe 719
princes and princesses, each havfcig a
claim more or less remote to a crown.
The one with the greatest number of
titles is the Emperor of Austria, Francis
Joteph. In addition to his title as em
peror, he is nine times king, onee arch
duke, twice grand duke, eighteen time
duke, four times margrave, five timea
count prince, twice prince, end many
times count and lord. His cartes d
visite make the fortune of photogr;uh
ers. The King of Portugal has eighteen
first names, his eldest son has twenty
, and his youngest twenty nine.